Musings
by ineffablepenguin
Summary: Wherein an angel and a demon drink an awful lot of wine, and go stargazing. {Part 5 of my Ineffable Husbands series. For Part 1, see 'Ineffably Inevitable'}


It had started as a picnic.

It was dark, the moon had been out for hours, and the angel and demon were the only two people left in the entire empty park. They sat on a blanket spread out on the grass, propped up against a large bare oak tree.

After Hastur's eventful visit, Crowley had suggested a private picnic in lieu of the restaurant. Still shaken, Aziraphale had agreed, and they had claimed a nice grassy spot in Hyde Park far from the main thoroughfares. The wine they brought with them had prolonged dinner into a very late dinner, then had gradually devolved into an unabashed drinking session as they both drowned their relief and anxiety. The park had long since closed for the evening, but it had taken only a minor demonic intervention to ensure they were conveniently ignored.

Crowley lay slumped between Aziraphale's bent legs with his back snug against his chest, and the angel had both arms wrapped around his waist. Empty wine bottles littered the grass around them, and if they were not quite entirely sloshed they were swiftly heading for it like an arrow to the bullseye. Their hair and clothes were thoroughly disheveled, and they had started the evening with more layers than they wore now. It was cold, but between the heat of the alcohol and each other neither one noticed that detail.

They were currently both staring up at the sky. It was an especially clear, cloudless night, and above them a thousand pinpoints of light shone scattered across the velvety blackness.

"I wonder," said Aziraphale suddenly. The stars had begun to rotate lazily above him, but Crowley's warmth in his arms kept him firmly anchored to earth.

"Hm?" said Crowley, jerking out of a reverie. He had been focusing on Aziraphale's hand where it lay against the skin under his shirt.

"I wonder if Gabriel or any of the others are watching us." Aziraphale mused. "Right. Now." For punctuation, he jabbed a finger vaguely at the distant stars.

There was a slightly stunned pause.

"Now that," declared Crowley solemnly, "is a bloody _awful_ thought." He stared up at the sky for a long minute in silence.

"HEYA, GABRIEL!" he abruptly shouted at the top of his lungs, causing Aziraphale to nearly jump out of his skin. Twisting round, Crowley seized him around the neck and kissed him deeply, with tongue, while simultaneously reaching back behind him with his other arm and brandishing his middle finger at the sky.

"Mmpf! Crowley!" Aziraphale flailed, losing his balance against the tree trunk, and together they flopped over onto the grass in a heap.

"There." Crowley muttered, rolling onto his back. "I hope he was watching _that_ at least. BASTARD!" he hollered again at the stars, voice echoing across the empty grounds.

"Shhhh, shhhh, Crowley, you, you're going to bring the humans, the police." He clumsily moved his hands to cover Crowley's mouth, suppressing snorts of laughter as he did.

After a second Crowley started to laugh too, and soon they were cracking up as loudly as the shouting had been.

Their laughter gradually trailed off, and Aziraphale struggled back into a sitting position, bracing himself against the tree as the world tilted a bit. He blinked a few times, but it didn't help.

"I might've had too much," he commented in surprise. "S'Definitely your fault."

"Sorry." Crowley sat up too and pulled Aziraphale to face him, nose to nose. His eyes glinted faintly golden in the starlight, and Aziraphale felt his heart thud.

Crowley frowned at him. "Why do you have to be so...gorgeous," he murmured, touching his cheek. "My gorgeous, dangerous angel." He kissed him, then again, slower, and reached out to fumble at his trouser buttons.

Aziraphale summoned a massive effort of willpower and stopped his hand. "Mm-nn. Wait, we can't," he protested.

Crowley stared at him blearily, mouth open and brow creased in confusion. "Why not?" he demanded.

Aziraphale had to think about that one for a moment. A pleasant fog seemed to have drifted over his thoughts and he was having trouble concentrating. Finally it came to him. "It's public indecency," he declared proudly, lifting his chin.

Crowley squinted at the deserted space around them, indignant. "What public? Where are they?" Making an expansive gesture with one arm he overbalanced, grabbed Aziraphale for support, and tipped both of them over onto the grass again. This time they just lay there, apparently in mutual agreement that it wasn't worth the effort to get back up.

"What public?" Crowley continued as if nothing had happened. His eyes were locked on the angel's face.

"It's _public_," Aziraphale insisted, though he wasn't completely sure anymore.

"Hrngh." Crowley made a disgusted noise. He rolled over onto his back again and scowled up at the flickering stars. "Angel...fucking...Gabriel," he muttered.

"Probably shouldn't say things like that," Aziraphale said, suppressing a nervous hiccup. "We're going to get smited. Smitten. Smote." He rolled onto his back as well.

"Nah," scoffed Crowley, shaking his head. "Almighty could've smote you flat as...as anything 'million times already, and-" he made an inarticulate series of gestures that seemed to take in him, Aziraphale, and their general lack of smiting. "Nothing. She definitely likes you."

"I suppose," said Aziraphale doubtfully. He sighed and folded his hands over his stomach. They lay side by side in companionable silence, until another thought occurred to him. "But what if She's just...biding Her time?" He stared wide-eyed up at the sky, as if expecting to see a celestial hand come swooping out of the heavens. "We never know what She's thinking. Her motives are ine-"

"_Yes_, yes yes I know. But think of this. She's been watching all this time, seen the sword, AntiChrist, Armageddon, holy water, all of it, right? Didn't say a word. Not a one. She likes you." He paused, and his voice became thoughtful. "If y'ask me, I think She's curious to see what you'll do next."

Aziraphale blew out a long breath. "I don't understand," he said wistfully after a moment. " I just don't understand any of it."

Crowley reached over, just a shadow next to him in the moonlight, and took Aziraphale's hand. "Makes perfect sense to me. I like you too, angel." He sighed in a resigned sort of way and shifted a bit closer. "Just don't tell anyone."

Fresh warmth that had nothing to do with the wine suffused Aziraphale from head to toe. He tugged at their entwined hands, and Crowley rolled over and curled up against him, resting his head on his shoulder.

This, at least, he understood very well.

He lay there holding his demon tight against his chest, staring at the sky and wondering.

Far above them, the vast expanse of the heavens continued turning and turning and turning. The stars were lovely and cold and distant, and Crowley was warm and alive and very close in his arms.


End file.
